31 Rules
by traces-on-a-page
Summary: Frollo and Esmeralda are thrown together in Notre Dame due to a snowstorm, and are forced to understand each other. Chapter 11: A true lover does not desire to embrace in love anyone except his beloved.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

It was tempting. All Esmeralda needed to do was to say yes, and Quasimodo would help her and she would be free.

She peered down the great heights of Notre Dame, while Quasimodo remained crouched on the ledge and waited for her answer.

A quick getaway through the towers and the spires and past the pesky soldiers; they wouldn't have a clue as to what happened. Esmeralda grinned. The plan was totally impulsive, totally her.

And Esmeralda frowned in annoyance. After all, it was impulsiveness that got her into this situation.

She quickly turned to Quasimodo, "Not that I'm sorry for helping you of course!" and felt sheepish when she saw that he was understandably puzzled by what she said.

What was it the archdeacon said? _"It would be unwise to arouse Frollo's anger further."_ If she left like this, Frollo would be angry. Maybe he would take it out on the few gypsies whom his men had caught and locked up in the dungeons, if he hadn't already. Besides, Clopin and the others may not be pleased at how she had made a ruckus today. Sure, they all had fun at the festival, but they were aware that there could be serious repercussions and a fresh wave of attack against them.

Best to stay here until her friends started missing her. It shouldn't be too long.

Making up her mind, Esmeralda said to Quasimodo, "I think we're both already in plenty of trouble. I'll lay low for a few days, and," her voice was full of mischief, "behave for once. Frollo will figure out he has better things to do and call off the guards."

Esmeralda saw how Quasimodo's face brightened up. Poor boy, all alone. She should use the time she was here to "unteach" whatever nonsense Frollo brainwashed him with and show Quasimodo that he can have a life outside this cathedral.

Quasimodo leapt off the ledge and ran back to the stairs. He waved at her to follow, "We'll get you some food. You must be hungry. After that, we'll find a room for you to sleep in."

**Chapter 1**

**When a lover suddenly catches sight of his beloved his heart palpitates.**

Frollo would not appreciate it when he got out of bed with a headache, but last night was to be the first of a series of bad nights.

He had woken up in the middle of the night on the cold marble floor. Wincing with both physical discomfort and embarrassment at himself, he had undressed and retired to his bed to try to get some proper sleep, but to no avail.

Resigned to the fact that he would not be able to sleep, Frollo began his day earlier than usual, but he was listless. He could not concentrate on his paperwork which his valet left on his desk; he could not carry out his duties in _Parlement_ during the morning with his usual alacrity and diligence; he could not read his Bible with any measure of peace.

Fatigued and frustrated, Frollo cancelled all his sessions and audiences for the rest of day. He collected the basket of lunch which his cook had prepared for him and Quasimodo and walked out of the Palace of Justice, where his men and carriage were waiting.

Captain Phoebus, who Frollo surmised was shrewder than the open-hearted nature he portrayed, saluted.

"Good morning sir." Frollo saw an almost imperceptible twitch of Phoebus' eyebrow, as Phoebus observed him. The captain may have learnt to conceal his thoughts from most of his peers and leaders, but not yet from him.

"Are you feeling all right?" Phoebus asked.

There were times when the truth would seem so bizarre that a person would not think it serious.

"I had a little trouble with the fireplace." Frollo said and without waiting for Phoebus' response, stepped onto his carriage.

"To Notre Dame, captain." Frollo closed his eyes and tried to rest during the ride.

-0-

The imposing sight of Notre Dame did not fail to instill awe (and fear, his conscience whispered) in Frollo. He heard the bells signal mid-day. How a simple-minded monster could create such musical harmony was beyond Frollo. He had to believe that it was the Lord's mysterious hand which was guiding the boy, as he swung among the bells. Thereafter, Quasimodo would set up the table and wait for his arrival. But then, this was no ordinary day.

Frollo's eyes gazed intently at the doors of Notre Dame. If Frollo was honest with himself, he did not cancel all his sessions today because he had a headache. Any moment, and he imagined that she was at the entrance, anticipating their meeting as much as he was.

Were the visions yesterday real? Could she be as stunning as when he first set eyes on her as she danced brazenly in front of him? Were the hallucinations last night supportable?

The devil played tricks on a man's mind. Perhaps in the Lord's House, the witch's spells would have weakened and her real form would reveal itself to be hideous. Perhaps the Lord was merciful, and when he reached Notre Dame, the archdeacon would be there to inform him that the witch had been struck down by Saint Michael, for her sheer audacity in hiding in His House from His faithful servant.

Alas, the Lord was a cruel master. For he would soon find that she was not only alive, but as feisty as ever. And just as maddeningly beautiful.

-0-

Unlike Frollo, Esmeralda slept with the ease of a carefree spirit. Her bed, thin and hard to a noble, was a luxury to her. The soup, which the archdeacon remembered to ask the kitchen to give to her, tasted warm and delicious to her. Djali also seemed to be having fun, poking his nose at every corner of the bell tower.

Esmeralda could not remember when it was that she felt this safe. So this was what sanctuary meant.

_Not a bad move to stay Esme. Not bad at all._

She was at Quasimodo's table, where his miniature Paris was. Quasimodo was ringing his bells, and she was waiting for him to show her more of the cathedral. It was almost like he was trying to package the whole place and present it to her. A sweet, eager boy.

Esmeralda might be quite careless (_Blockheaded blindness_, Clopin said), but she could see all the signs in Quasimodo. Sooner or later, she would have to tell Quasimodo that they were only going to be friends.

It was going to be tricky, Quasimodo was someone to be as gentle to as she could, because he never had any friends. That was another thing, the gargoyles did not count. For the time being, she was going to keep it casual.

As the bells chimed, Esmeralda swayed to their rhythm. Although she had told Quasimodo rather self-deprecatingly that dancing kept bread on the table, it was in her blood, and she did love it.

And so she danced.

-0-

Frollo froze at the top of the stairs when he beheld Esmeralda dancing before him. He felt that his visions were returning to haunt him in the day.

But this was different. So different. This was no vague vapors and smoke, or hellish flames. This was… her. Just her. With a private dance for him alone.

And he was helpless in the face of such exquisite delight.

Standing in the shadows where she could not see him, Frollo watched every flick of her wrist, every bounce of her hair, every sparkle in her eye, every skip in her step. Bathed in the warm sunlight, she looked almost innocent. He may have forgotten to breathe when she arched backwards, and his eyes were instantly drawn to her breasts.

Frollo was acutely aware of his arousal. Gripping the handle of his basket to gain some form of reality, he agonized over whether he wanted Esmeralda to continue dancing or whether he should end it. And go over to her and pin her to the table and kiss her all over.

Esmeralda slowed to a halt when the bells stopped ringing. Frollo found that he was unable to move or speak. Then, he saw her turn her head and smile.

"Hi Quasimodo."

Frollo felt like a man rudely awakened when Quasimodo stepped into his line of sight. How happy the boy looked.

"Did you like the bells, Esmeralda?" Quasimodo asked.

"Very much. I choreographed a dance while you were ringing them!"

"I should like to see it," Quasimodo said shyly, "I'm sure it's wonderful."

"It's not finished, so you can't see it yet," Esmeralda winked, "You should understand that as an artist."

They both giggled, like it was a secret joke they shared.

The anger which washed over Frollo was familiar. It was the same anger he felt when Quasimodo had disobeyed him and participated in the festival. It was the same anger when Esmeralda stood up against him and refused to back down.

There was also something else. Something he did not recognize yesterday. It dawned on him that he was jealous. Jealous of a fool, a pitiful fool who had her approach him and protect him. Who had her bestow her hand to him and wipe debris from his face.

Frollo lashed out, "Quasimodo! What do you think you are doing!"

**A/N** - Thank you for reading! The title of the story comes from Andreas Capellanus' The Art of Courtly Love. The opening line of each chapter will be one of the 31 rules set out in there. I don't necessarily agree with all the rules and not all of them are applicable to Frollo and Esmeralda's relationship, but I am inspired by them. I hope that you enjoy the story as much as I have writing it. =)


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**He who is not jealous cannot love.**

Esmeralda and Quasimodo were startled when they heard Frollo's voice. Esmeralda saw fear flash in Quasimodo's eyes and noted how his stutter came back when he greeted Frollo.

"M... master... Master Frollo, I… I was…"

Frollo stormed towards him, "Have I not told you to avoid gypsies like the plague? Do you not understand their wickedness? Why is she here?"

Quasimodo was confused, "I… I didn't want Esmeralda near the bells, because they can be very loud… Es… especially Big Marie."

"No one is interested in your bells, Quasimodo," Frollo snapped, "Or that you have given them names." Quasimodo was crestfallen.

"How can you do this?" Frollo ranted, "After all I have done to raise you, is this how you repay me? I came to see how you were after your ordeal yesterday." Frollo knew he was lying, and did not care. He would pay penance later. Right now, he wanted to oppress the boy, to guilt him into submission. "And I see you with this heathen, throwing all caution to the wind! Evidently, you have learnt nothing!"

"I… I am sorry master," Quasimodo was near tears, "I have let you down."

"You have, my dear boy," Frollo said gravely, "You have indeed."

Not understanding the reason behind Frollo's viciousness, Esmeralda could not stay quiet anymore.

"Er, hello? I am here listening." She placed her hands on her hips and Frollo was forced to look at her.

"First of all," Esmeralda said, "it's not nice to say all these nasty things about me, or my people. You know nothing about us, except for all your prejudices. Second, you didn't just tell Quasimodo to avoid gypsies, you practically cooped him up here his whole life and told him to avoid everyone and that's unfair! He deserves to be out there like anyone. And third…" she paused, "you are not nice."

Frollo could not help but notice that Esmeralda's face was still flushed from her dancing, and her eyes were shining green. Confound the girl, why did she have to be so beguilingly beautiful even when she was angry?

What she said did not escape him though, and when Frollo spoke, he was pleased that his voice was calm. "I know everything about your kind," he drawled with the confidence of a man who knew he was superior, "Your depravity taints and infects the good people of Paris to follow your godless ways. Because of you gypsies, both sin and crime pervade this city and all of France." He smirked, causing Esmeralda to frown, "As for Quasimodo, he is under my charge, and I shall protect him as I deem fit. Besides," he added triumphantly, "You saw what the crowd did. They mocked him when they crowned him king of fools, and punished him for it."

Esmeralda stepped forward, glaring at him, challenging him. She saw something flicker in his eyes and how his eyes seemed to become a shade darker. Well, she was not going to be intimidated by him.

"I saw a man who claimed that he stood for justice but sat by as he watched a defenseless boy get tied up and beaten. You paint this world black, and see what you want to see. People," Esmeralda stove to reason, "have good and bad in them. You cannot take a swipe and blame the gypsies for everything bad that happens or everything bad that other people do. We are different, and we are not educated like you or refined like you, but different doesn't mean bad."

Frollo and Esmeralda stared at each other. Quasimodo, who was by nature a timid child, found the confrontation between the two people who were dear to him highly stressful.

Numerous thoughts crossed Frollo's mind, but they were too disconcerting and he suppressed them. He reverted to his long-held beliefs.

"I see clearly, witch. You and your race work with the devil and it is the Lord's mission that I rid all of France of you. Until then, I will not rest."

Esmeralda stepped away in disgust.

"My name is Esmeralda, and I am wasting my time with you." She cocked her head up proudly, "As long as you are going to be a pompous ass, I am not going to be here."

Esmeralda hooked her arm around Quasimodo's and led him to the stairs, "Come on Quasimodo. He doesn't deserve your attention."

"You will stay here Quasimodo!" Frollo ordered.

"Es… Esmeralda, I… can't…" Quasimodo sputtered.

Esmeralda turned back to see Frollo.

"The archdeacon asked Quasimodo to show me around the cathedral and he is going to do that," Esmeralda shot back tartly, secure in her knowledge that Frollo was powerless in Notre Dame, "Maybe I will ask the archdeacon if Quasimodo can teach me how to sing those hymns."

Esmeralda did a little twirl and brought Quasimodo down the stairs, leaving Frollo seething.

How could she tease him with her dancing and then shower Quasimodo with attention? How could she treat Quasimodo with such gentleness and yet deride him at every turn?

Frollo's eyes caught the figurines of Esmeralda and Quasimodo which were standing next to each other. Out of spite, he picked up the figurine of Quasimodo and threw it hard on the floor.

"Damnation!"

-0-

"Tell me, Quasimodo," Esmeralda asked, "How can you stand Frollo? He's impossible."

Esmeralda and Quasimodo had found a quiet spot near the West Rose Window and were sitting on the floor like two children hiding from all the adults. Esmeralda didn't want to be up in the cathedral while Frollo was there, and Quasimodo didn't want to be seen by anyone else.

At Esmeralda's question, Quasimodo looked uncertain. He thought about it, and replied, "You may be surprised Esmeralda. Frollo has always been kind and patient with me. He's never lost his temper at me, even when he is upset. Yesterday was the first time I heard him raise his voice."

Kind and patient? That was definitely not how Esmeralda heard Frollo described. Frollo's formidable reputation was such that it spread all over France, and even parts of Europe. He was a pitiless judge, a severe master and a ruthless tyrant, imperious in his ways and inscrutable in his thoughts.

Yet, what Quasimodo said prompted Esmeralda to ponder further.

Above all, Frollo was known for his coldness and, some said, incorruptibility. He was a man made out of iron and not blood. He would just as easily hang a nobleman as he would a thief. Six years ago, he caused a scandal among the French nobility when one of the sons from the House of Foix-Grailly was caught in a brawl and the father tried to bribe Frollo to overlook the matter. Both father and son were sentenced to the dungeons for a month. When Louis XI, who was on friendly terms with the family, interceded on their behalf, Frollo cited Louis XI's own ordinances regarding crime. It was a hazardous step, for Louis XI was infamous for his grudges. It was fortunate for Frollo that Louis XI valued him as a scholar and man of great intellect and agreed with Frollo's position in the end.

The consensus among everyone, whether commoner, gypsy, or noble, was that it was best not to cross paths with Frollo.

And yet, if he was so cold, why did Esmeralda see someone so unlike coldness when she saw him for herself?

When she was dancing at the festival, she thought she would have a bit of fun with someone who sounded utterly dull and rigid. She learnt belatedly that she got more than she bargained for. Frollo's face was a myriad of emotions when she hopped onto his podium. Shock was the predominant one at first, followed by embarrassment, bewilderment and panic… All throughout, she saw how his eyes shone with an extraordinary fire and she wondered that no one else had spotted it.

And Frollo then acted like a total creep in Notre Dame. Esmeralda was reminded of a boy at the Court of Miracles who thought that flipping one of the other gypsies' skirt over her head would get that girl's attention. Esmeralda had heard that Frollo was unmarried, that he had sworn to dedicate his life to his church and country. That may be so, but surely Frollo was far too old to behave like a stupid boy.

Esmeralda shook her head. Although she knew she was a looker, she did not think it was possible that she would be appealing to Frollo. She was everything he despised and hated. It was more likely that he was trying to get back at her for making a fool of him in front of everyone.

It was all very odd, and Esmeralda was intrigued to say the least.

Esmeralda grinned. _Better to know your enemy…_ She asked for more information from Quasimodo and, of course, Quasimodo could not refuse.

-0-

"This entire situation is intolerable, Reverend," Frollo affirmed at the end of a lengthy tirade. "I implore you, can you not resolve it?"

Archdeacon Charles Myriel said serenely, "Esmeralda has sanctuary."

Frollo was hard-pressed not to shake Myriel from his complacency, but he cared too much for the church not to pay deference to Myriel. Still, it was infuriating that the one person who kept opposing his plans, the one person who kept disputing his actions, was him. What must he do to convince Myriel that to let Esmeralda roam freely in Notre Dame was to invite calamity? Time and time again, Frollo swallowed back the question in his throat.

"Reverend," he tried another angle, "the gypsy girl may have sanctuary, but it does not mean that she can go around acting wildly."

"Thus far, the only complaint I seem to glean from you is that she is making friends with Quasimodo. It is quite innocent, I assure you. I do not see how that is wrong, or wild."

Frollo suppressed another urge to shake Myriel.

"She is a witch influencing an impressionable child. Quasimodo has no experience with the wickedness of the world. Already, I see…" Frollo struggled here, "… _infatuation _in his eyes."

Myriel smiled, "I cannot help it that the girl is both kind and beautiful."

Frollo grimaced. So even Myriel noticed. "It will not end well. The gypsy is toying with him. Quasimodo will get hurt."

"I am heartened, Frollo, by your concern for Quasimodo. You should display it more often," the tone in Myriel's voice was light, but Frollo grasped the reproach behind it. "Quasimodo is growing up. You have kept him here all these years, but there will come a day when he will be part of the outside world," Myriel raised a hand when he saw that Frollo was about to protest, "He will, Minister, you should learn to accept it, he has in any case mingled with it yesterday, and it is his blessing that he met someone like Esmeralda."

"You may serve the Lord, Reverend, but I fight His enemies everyday, and I recognize evil. The gypsy's kindness is a pretense, a veil to her treacherous, indecent ways! It is not simply about Quasimodo. Her hair, her dress, they offend the good people who come here. I have also heard from Father Galiache that she prances around the place and sings at her whim and fancy. You are too lenient with her transgressions," Frollo said antagonistically.

"And you are bent on condemning them," Myriel furrowed his brow in puzzlement, "It seems, Minister, that you take an uncommon interest in Esmeralda. Was it not enough that you sparred with her yesterday, that you must keep on pursuing her so?"

Frollo's cheeks reddened, but he recovered magnificently.

"Reverend, she thwarted my authority, humiliated my men, and sought refuge with Our Lady herself. She is a wily one, even for a gypsy, and must be put in her place and made an example of."

"Ah. Pride," Myriel thought now that he understood. "Take heed, Minister, the Lord has cautioned us about tempering it.

Frollo bowed his head. He was only relieved that Myriel did not suspect anything more.

Seeing that Frollo was winding down, Myriel tried to assuage him further.

"Esmeralda is headstrong, I grant you, her heart is in the right place."

"Gypsies have no heart," Frollo said morosely.

Myriel smiled again, "You and I will have to agree to disagree. As we often do. But I will take into account what you say, and tell Esmeralda that while she is here, she is to try to follow our ways. Come," he beckoned Frollo to walk with him, "since you are here, dine with me, and I will show you this Bible which we received from Gutenberg's press."

**A/N **- Thank you for reading (and do let me know how you find it)! Charles Myriel of course is the name of the bishop in Les Miserables.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**A man in love is always apprehensive.**

"You really are quite surprising, Quasimodo," Esmeralda said.

Bit by bit, Quasimodo had opened up and shared with Esmeralda his life. He spoke about how his parents abandoned him, and how Frollo found him at the steps of Notre Dame and raised him. About how Frollo nourished him and taught him to read and write. About how he grew up in the bell tower all his life and the archdeacon gave him a great gift by appointing him as the bellringer.

When Esmeralda queried further, they both learnt that they were both twenty. Yet, compared to Quasimodo, Esmeralda was a grouchy old woman.

Despite being told everyday how grim and dangerous the world was, Quasimodo held high hopes. He said that Laverne, one of his gargoyle friends, always told him that life was not a spectator sport. He wished that he could be a part of the world one day, and embrace life, warts and all.

Esmeralda found herself deeply moved by Quasimodo, and didn't want to spoil his worldview at all. Moreover, she felt that she should protect it.

Maybe, in his twisted way, Frollo did shield Quasimodo from the injustices of the world and growing cynical like the rest of it. Then again, many of the injustices Esmeralda knew were perpetrated by Frollo himself.

Esmeralda let out an exasperated sigh. Frollo was an enigma, and Esmeralda greatly disliked that. She was a straightforward type of girl, who would express herself freely and called out anyone who had an issue with her. She wanted problems fixed on the spot, and not left hanging. With Frollo, she was stumped. She couldn't make him out, and it was not like she could go and talk to him about it.

_He's a prick_, Esmeralda thought uncharitably. _First he ruined a nice morning, now he ruined my mood._

Quasimodo unwittingly lifted Esmeralda's spirits.

"Master Frollo was right when he said there are cruel people out there." Quasimodo said, "I… I'm not sure if I will go back out there soon." He had entered a world when it was bursting with colors and was at its height of chaos. Everything had dazzled and confused him simultaneously. Things were different when experienced upfront. And in the midst of the festivities, he learnt likewise how the noise of celebration could easily turn into the discordant jeers of a mob.

Quasimodo looked at the high columns of Notre Dame, and the ceiling above them. The Festival of Fools was enough adventure to last him another twenty years. "This is where I belong." He turned back to Esmeralda, "But Archdeacon Myriel was also right when he said that people are kind. I'm so happy to know you Esmeralda. I am a mons…" He caught her glare and said, "You look at me like I am normal. Others mocked me, and you came to help me when you didn't have to," Quasimodo said shyly, "I… I have a friend. If I do step out of here one day, it will be to see you."

Esmeralda was pleased. "Oh, Quasimodo, I am honored." Her eyes twinkled, "You can visit me at the Court of Miracles! You'll see that gypsies are not all bad. And we like people who make beautiful things. You will be most welcome."

Quasimodo swelled with happiness. Before he could reply, a cheerful voice cut in, "Will I be welcome too?"

-0-

Phoebus was bored.

After he arrived at Notre Dame with Frollo, he was told to check on the guards and to wait for Frollo at the nave. That did not take long, and Phoebus strolled around the cathedral afterwards. He was neither a religious man nor a cultured one, however, and soon gave up studying his surroundings. There was only so much sculpture and stained glass a man could take, and the pace of life during his two days in Paris was slower than what he was used to. But, dull as the day was thus far, Phoebus perceived that he was exactly at a point in life where he ought to be.

Phoebus had left Paris when he was seven, following his father who was _sergent de bataille_. His father imparted all his skills to him, and Phoebus became a soldier when he was of age. Over the course of the next ten years, what he remembered was the fighting; fighting against the enemy; fighting for his king and country; and fighting for his life. One battle merged with another. Sometimes, Phoebus' memories were a blur. He may have been lauded by his superiors for his courage and his men may have held him in high esteem, but Phoebus was modest about his accomplishments. The fact of the matter was that fighting was all he ever knew how to do.

For someone steeped in war since his youth though, Phoebus was remarkably well-adjusted. He was popular not only for his merits as a soldier, but also for his compassion and wit. On Phoebus' part, he felt he could not complain about his lot. He managed to survive every war and battle without fatal injury. He had periods of merriment and relaxation, when the troops stopped by an accommodating village or town and rested. There were new faces, boisterous welcomes, good wine, and pretty women encouraging weary men.

Over the years, Phoebus climbed the ranks and became most active during the Burgundian Wars. By the end of 1477 though, he was worn out. He was past his prime, he thought self-deprecatingly.

When Phoebus received orders from Paris to return and serve as Captain of the Guard, he carried them out speedily, trained as he was to obey unquestioningly. Now that he was here, he accepted that it was just as well. He had sacrificed his best years to the military, and it was time to adapt to civilian life. Being the Captain of the Guard allowed him to retain his title and he treated his new position as a natural progression.

While mulling over his fortune, Phoebus had a brief respite, when a very pretty blonde visited Notre Dame with whom he assumed was her mother. The mother scoffed at his uniform and brought her daughter hurriedly to the pews. The daughter, on the other hand, was blatantly fascinated by Phoebus' good looks and stature. When the mother was focused on prayer, the daughter would turn around and peek at Phoebus. Once, Phoebus winked and bowed to her elaborately, flashing his sword when he did so. She blushed with pleasure and hid her giggles.

As Phoebus focused on his surroundings again, he spied Esmeralda and Quasimodo at a discreet corner.

-0-

Quasimodo turned surly when he saw Phoebus advance towards them. To him, Phoebus was a threat to Esmeralda. He was a soldier, under Frollo's strict orders to arrest her. He wanted to yell at Phoebus to go away.

Esmeralda spoke.

"It is not polite to eavesdrop," Esmeralda raised her head haughtily, "Anyway, you will not be welcome. My people will hang you."

"Charming." Phoebus chuckled, "It will be quite a tragedy if I were to leave the wars only to meet my demise in our fair city. Only minutes ago, I was contemplating how much I could like it here."

A smile played on Esmeralda's lips, "How do you find Paris?"

"Snowy."

"If you drop by the Court of Miracles, you cannot blame me for not warning you."

"I shan't dare." Phoebus said, "Besides, I have yet to tell you how sorry I am for trapping you here. I didn't mean to. I have only been here for half a day and already I feel confined."

"Ah! And here I was thinking of thanking you. There is free lodging, free food, and free…" Esmeralda beamed, "security. But, apology accepted."

Phoebus pressed a hand against his chest, "Whew! I was worried that you would be demanding me to make some compensation and bankrupt me. It's official. You are a man. Not only do you fight like one, you are also forthright like one."

"Are you saying that all women are a mean, spiteful bunch who seize every opportunity to squeeze men dry?" Esmeralda asked in mock outrage.

"There's a saying about the fury of a woman. But I am willing to stand corrected."

Quasimodo did not know what flirting was, let alone recognize it. But he sensed that he was missing something, and that Esmeralda did not actually consider Phoebus repugnant.

More importantly, Quasimodo saw what a handsome pair they made.

-0-

Myriel and Frollo spent some time admiring the Bible. Frollo had once voiced his reservations over Gutenberg's invention. However, on this occasion, he was compelled to acquiesce that the print was impeccable.

Myriel closed the Bible and said, "I have to prepare for Vespers, Minister. Will you be joining us?"

"Yes, Reverend. I have no engagements."

"Good, good." They left Myriel's chambers and walked toward the nave.

Myriel remarked, "It appears that there are quite a number with us this evening. It is comforting that while the clergy today persists in fretting over the schism over a hundred years ago, our people maintain their faith in God."

Frollo said proudly, "La France est la fille aînée de l'église."

"Yes." Myriel harrumphed, "And, ah, in keeping with that spirit, I asked Quasimodo yesterday to assist Esmeralda with the church's teachings. They will be at the front of the altar. You will probably see them."

Frollo balked. "Reverend…"

"I will brook no dissent. You complained that her wild ways should be remedied. I disagreed. But I do not see how you can oppose my arrangement if it is to guide a non-believer to God."

"If…" Frollo sputtered, "If you want to reform the witch, and God knows how that will turn out, it is your decision. But there has to be someone else who can do so. I will not yield to your whim at the expense of Quasimodo hurting himself." _How noble you sound Claude, are there no other motives for your objections? _Shame flitted across Frollo's conscience.

"Let us not repeat the same conversation we had earlier," Myriel said sensibly, "The priests have their duties and tasks to oversee. Quasimodo knows the Bible from cover to cover and the services like the back of his palm. The only other person who is equally qualified is you. And I cannot rely on you, can I?"

Myriel walked away, and failed to register the bleakness in Frollo's face.

-0-

Frollo was miserable. In the midst of Vespers, everything sounded meaningless.

_O Deus, in adiutorium meum intende. O Domine, ad adiuvandum me festina._

God neither heard his prayers nor came to his aid at all.

When he found Quasimodo and Esmeralda, Phoebus was with them. Frollo was inclined to believe that the witch was determined to grieve him. She must be feeling triumphant for ensnaring both his ward and his new Captain of the Guard.

_Not only them…_

Frollo scowled. He stole a glance at her. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes stayed on the altar, full of curiosity. If he did not know better, she appeared to embrace the services keenly.

Since catching all three of them together, Esmeralda was completely ignoring him. When he had appeared, she had picked herself up from the floor and walked past him as though he were invisible.

"How fast the day flies. Time for you to ride your chariot across the sky, sun god," she laughed as she bade Phoebus goodbye.

Another secret joke. With another man.

Quasimodo and Phoebus were not at similar liberty as Esmeralda was to disregard Frollo. Phoebus promptly stood to attention as Quasimodo stammered a greeting to his master before going after Esmeralda.

If Frollo had his way, he would have lectured Phoebus till kingdom come, but there were people in the cathedral, and he could not be seen to lose his composure again. Even he was rattled by his temper these two days. He merely told Phoebus curtly to follow him to the pews, and waited till Vespers ended.

Walking to his carriage, Frollo spoke, "Incidentally, captain, how is it that I found you with my ward and the gypsy girl?"

Phoebus replied dryly, "Sir, they were there, and so was I."

"I am sorry that you should be introduced to Quasimodo at the festival in that manner. I specifically forbade him to participate in it. Was he injured?"

"A few bruises, nothing more, sir. If I may say, sir, once you get past his meekness, he is a very interesting boy."

"You do not find him dull?"

"Not at all, sir."

"And the gypsy girl?"

"A most beautiful woman, sir!" Phoebus declared, and realized his slip.

Frollo frowned sternly, "Do you remember what I summoned you back to Paris for?"

At Frollo's tone, Phoebus responded cautiously, "Yes sir."

"I told you that the gypsies live outside the normal order, and that the real war is within this city. It is dangerous, Captain, to fraternize with them."

"Yes sir."

"I like you, captain. You have thus far displayed presence of mind which most of my men, buffoons as they are, have not. Do not throw away a promising career."

"Yes sir." Decades of experience ingrained Phoebus with the ability to keep his face neutral and say those two important words without any inflection so as not to worsen the situation.

Frollo studied Phoebus. It struck him bitterly that while he had hired Phoebus as he had considered him to be the best, he had invited a young and handsome man who could easily win the affections of any woman he chose. He would not have bothered under normal circumstances, but he remembered Esmeralda's coquettish smile as she whispered in Phoebus' ear.

If Frollo was jealous of Quasimodo, he was now overcome by the possibility that Esmeralda was attracted to Phoebus.

"Good," Frollo said darkly, "I would be loath to change my Captain of the Guard so rapidly." So saying, he climbed on board his carriage.

Phoebus heaved inwardly.

_Someone needs to lighten up._

When Frollo returned to his chambers, he dropped his guard and paced the floor restlessly.

_She _was the one who was supposed to wither within stone walls. Yet she seemed to be thriving, while _he_ felt like a caged animal.

Frollo's mind whirled with images of her. He recalled what it was like to be close to her, to be touched by her, to have her smile at him, to have those eyes gaze at him and no other. His nostrils flared unconsciously as he invoked her scent of lemons and wild flowers and something else alluring but unrecognizable. He assumed it was was uniquely her. She had shown him a glimpse of paradise at the Feast of Fools and decided to shut him out unceremoniously, and lavish her attention on other men like the fickle-minded witch that she was.

She was not a witch. She was a powerful sorceress. She needed to be eradicated, vanquished, and banished to the belly of hell whence she came from. No, she could be saved, the church was showing her the way to God. _He _could show her the way, never mind what Myriel thought. She could be his.

Frollo groaned under the weight of memory and emotion. He was coping very badly, and he knew it.

He was proud of his self-control and his ability to stay calm under all conditions. It differentiated himself with the commoners, and with the nobles, many of whom indulged in excesses and petty feuds. He thought he was above all of that. To feel his whole being slip away was, plainly put, frightening.

Frollo walked over to his table where his glass and a bottle of wine were. Wine would numb the senses, whilst a cure remained elusive, he thought, as he drank glass after glass in grim determination.

Outside, it began to snow quietly.

-0-

**A/N - **

"La France est la fille aînée de l'église", meaning "France is the eldest daughter of the church"

"_O Deus, in adiutorium meum intende. O Domine, ad adiuvandum me festina._", meaning "O God, come to my assistance. O Lord, make haste to help me", which is the first verse of Psalm 70.

Poor Frollo. He is not coping very well with the competition! But I'm trying to keep with the Disney characterization, and aiming towards a romance between Frollo and Esmeralda which is founded not just on physical attraction, but mutual understanding. *crosses fingers* Hope it works.

Thank you purpledragon6, The Butterfly Dreamer, and greenvelvet so much for the reviews.

darkknightress337: Yes, I always think about what can happen if Esmeralda got to know Frollo more. Thank you so much for your review too.

Maggie, Maggie, yes, thank you for bugging me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Good character alone makes any man worthy of love.**

"Wow," Esmeralda said.

It was morning and she was standing at the gallery. It had snowed during the night, and Paris was covered with pure white snow. From the top of Notre Dame, Paris was like a fairyland and Esmeralda viewed the vast expanse, absolutely charmed. The snow was not yet thick, and some of the Parisians were already streaming out of their homes trying to clear a path to get on with their daily activities. Below her, Esmeralda saw that the guards were changing shifts.

Then a gust of wind blew and Esmeralda wrapped her cloak more tightly to herself. She should retreat if she did not want to freeze.

Shuffling her feet in shoes which she had borrowed from the laundress and which were too wide for her, Esmeralda returned inside the cathedral. Taking off the shoes, she shook them and watched in rapture as the snowflakes fell gently onto the floor.

"The archdeacon said that it will snow again," Quasimodo joined her, "It looks like 1447 if he is any judge," Quasimodo spoke as though he were quoting the archdeacon.

"What happened in 1447?" Esmeralda asked.

"He said people were snowed in for days."

"Days?" Esmeralda became concerned. She might be safe here, but she did not think the Court of Miracles was ready for a scenario like this.

She walked down with Quasimodo to find Myriel, who was with the other priests. They were informing anyone who visited the cathedral that they should return home and ensure that it was stocked up.

"Help us spread the word, Monsieur Boucher," Myriel told a merchant, "Everyone should get shelter by the end of the day."

Esmeralda approached him, "Father, could I speak with you in private?"

"What is it, child?"

"This snow…" Esmeralda hesitated. To suggest anything about the whereabouts of the Court of Miracles was risky.

Myriel saw that she was conflicted. He led her to a booth. "Do you know what this is?"

Esmeralda shook her head.

"It is a confessional. People come here to confess their sins to us and we absolve them. In the same breath, we are sworn to secrecy and cannot tell another about what is said. I do not know what it is you wish to discuss with me, but will it ease your anxieties if we speak inside?"

Despite her, as Myriel described, anxieties, Esmeralda felt a bubble of laughter forming inside her. The archdeacon looked so sincere. "No father, I trust you, but it is not just my secret … I wanted to know if the snow will be able to enter… whatever is underground?"

"Ah." Myriel meditated for a while, "Can the snow be blocked? Are there doors, barricades?"

"I think so." Esmeralda felt silly, "Won't people suffocate inside?"

"I do not see why not, if there is ventilation. Do not worry child, the Lord will provide." Myriel assured her.

Esmeralda smiled wanly, "I'm sorry father, when I say I wish I have your confidence."

Myriel patted her shoulder, "In time, child, in time. Come, let us see what we can do to divert your attention at least."

-0-

Sunday was when the Lord rested, but on this Sunday, 8 January 1482, Frollo and Phoebus were busy the entire day.

Frollo was a young boy of ten in 1447, but he remembered being holed up in the Palace of Justice. As soon as he had woken up in the morning and seen the snow, he immediately took action. Summoning Phoebus and a group of soldiers, they gathered their horses and rode fast to the peripheral regions of Paris.

Frollo suffered from a tiresome headache from his heavy drinking, and he was bleary-eyed initially, but he managed to keep his wits together through sheer stubbornness. Going from mill to mill, and farm to farm, he directed his men to check that all families were accounted for. For those who lacked supplies, his men were tasked to bring back wood and grain from the stores and granary to last each family for at least two weeks. Thereafter, they headed back to the City and the University and did as much as they could. Frollo did not worry about the Town. The nobles would be prepared.

In one day, Frollo's and Phoebus' esteem for each other increased.

It was easier for Phoebus. Unlike everyone else, he had no preconceived notions of Frollo, and formed his opinion of him based on his own observations.

Since Frollo's thinly veiled warning, Phoebus had been disturbed and had been reminded of his first encounter with Frollo at the dungeons, where he had witnessed the former Captain of the Guard being whipped callously and the satisfaction which had crossed Frollo's face. He chatted with one of the older soldiers, and learnt about the sadistic savagery committed by his predecessor towards orphans and the homeless. People who would not have been missed, but for a mistake in him attacking a child who turned out to be a peasant's son. How one of the bodies was later found with multiple broken bones and eyes gorged out… Listening to each incident angered Phoebus. He had seen atrocities at war, and the worst of men. This guy was right up there with them.

Phoebus did not derive any joy in killing, but he understood to an extent why Frollo would inflict similar punishment on the former Captain of the Guard.

The older soldier professed, "Frollo works for God, sure. Doesn't mean he's not a bit of bastard. He enjoyed torturing Gus, and you didn't hear that from me."

It was a new day, and Phoebus was ready to see Frollo with new eyes. Putting aside his unhealthy obsession with getting rid of gypsies, Frollo made for an imposing and somber personage. Every order he gave was curt, every arrangement he made was precise. Behind his actions, Phoebus detected the care Frollo put in them.

It was always better to have a superior he could look up to.

Frollo's respect for Phoebus came more grudgingly, as a result of his resentment towards Phoebus. He did in the end acknowledge that Phoebus was the most diligent and intelligent captain he ever had. Phoebus understood his orders without requiring elaboration, and even though there were women who were practically throwing themselves at him, he was not deterred from his duties.

By late afternoon, the snow returned faster and heavier and the soldiers were told to go home. Phoebus was left with Frollo as their horses stamped about the square. Frollo was gazing pensively at Notre Dame.

Phoebus coughed and spoke up.

"Sir, let me escort you back to the Palace of Justice. I will go to Notre Dame and disperse the rest of the soldiers. Er, I don't think the gypsy girl will be able to break out from Notre Dame with this snow, really."

"You can return, captain. I will make a trip to Notre Dame and do the necessary."

Phoebus brought Achilles to Frollo's side.

"I am obliged to see that you have a guard at all times, Minister. If you wish to go to Notre Dame, I shall go with you."

Frollo's brow furrowed, and Phoebus wondered for a moment if he was out of line.

"Come along then." Without another word, Frollo rode off.

-0-

Esmeralda spent the day occupied with using whatever materials she could scour as makeshift beds in the nave for the homeless who came begging for shelter. There were also children who crept in. Scrawny and dirty-faced, the interior of Notre Dame must have awed them, but the presence of Esmeralda, whom many knew from the streets, was reassuring. Whenever Esmeralda was free, she checked on them to make sure none of them was lost. She also got them to help out by distributing warmer clothing to the rest of the people.

Unexpectedly, there were also a handful of merchants and aristocrats, whose faith overrode their need for safety. Esmeralda spied a mother and daughter who had been at Vespers yesterday. The daughter looked rather perplexed at being brought to church by her mother, but her mother was loyal to the church.

"Madame Aloїse," Myriel was perturbed, "You should be at your residence. It will not do if the storm comes and you are still here."

"I survived 1447 here," Madame Aloїse de Gondelaurier said.

"You were thirty then, Madame, your constitution now…"

"Peesh, I know my constitution. I will survive 1482 too."

Myriel cast a glance at her daughter, "Mademoiselle Fleur-de-Lys is delicate…"

Madame Aloїse cut him off, "I will take care of my daughter. If the storm comes before Vespers are over, you will furnish us with a room to sleep in."

Esmeralda was tickled. She doubted that anyone could tell this old dame what she could or could not do.

"I have never failed to attend Vespers, Reverend. A little snow will not stop God's lambs from worship. Is that not so, Minister?"

Frollo and Phoebus were shaking off the snow from their clothes near the entrance. Fleur-de-Lys' eyes lit up brightly when she saw Phoebus and her demeanor changed.

At Frollo's order, all the guards came indoors. By now, the snow was so heavy that no one could see beyond two feet.

Phoebus followed Frollo to the congregation. As they, or rather Frollo, walked past, people scurried away from their path.

"I beg your pardon, Madame, I did not hear what it was you said," Frollo said.

"I was telling the archdeacon that this abysmal snow cannot stop me from coming here. You have come too." Madame Aloїse said.

Frollo bowed his head. "Indeed. I came to see if I could be of assistance. But it appears that Father Myriel has organized everything immaculately."

"Thank you, Minister," Myriel said.

"Very valiant of you, Minister," praised Madame Aloїse, "Paris is a better city with a Minister like you."

Esmeralda let out an air of disbelief, and everyone turned to look at her.

_Oh crap._ She did not intend for this kind of attention. Madame Aloїse looked askance at her cheek to interrupt. It occurred to Esmeralda sadly that while she may have liked the old woman for her straight talk and pluckiness, the old woman held the same prejudices as most Parisians did towards her kind and detested her. Fleur-de-Lys' nose wrinkled with disdain.

"_What_," Madame Aloїse said with emphasis and scorn, "is that, Reverend."

Myriel's jaw twitched.

"Madame, she is a girl who is seeking sanctuary with Our Lady. You do not need to mind her. Please," Myriel directed Madame Aloїse away, "allow me to bring you to the pews."

Frollo and Phoebus remained where they were. Esmeralda tried valiantly to keep her poise and dignity. She knew her hair was messier than usual and her clothes were shabby from all the activity. She bit her lower lip so that it would not tremble. It did not matter how many times she was called names or was accused of all manners of sin and crime, from theft to prostitution, or to be treated as less than human. It rankled.

Frollo made no attempt to hide his smirk. It was infuriating.

She did notice though that he looked worn. But as long as he was going to be rude, she was not going to talk to him.

_Don't say anything. Don't say anything._

"So silent, my dear? You might be learning some manners in the church after all."

"You look terrible," Esmeralda blurted out.

**A/N**

8 January 1482 is really a Sunday, I checked the calendar!

I've pegged Frollo at age 45 for the purposes of my story here. You may notice that I'm trying to give all the characters a bit of a back story (Esmeralda's will come soon). For Frollo, obviously Disney evilfied (is that a word? well, it is) him because it's Disney. So I'm trying to explain canon in a way that gives Frollo a more layered characterization. Still a bastard (and I say this with affection!), but not flat-out evil.

**Edit: **In response to Aguna's review, I have no intention of giving Frollo a sob story. His back story is more or less done in my previous chapters. I've written half of my story, and while my version of Frollo is not flat-out evil, there will be several scenes later on which show that Frollo makes no apologies for his actions either. Frollo and Esmeralda's relationship will also go through different phases, both really bad and good. I can only hope that I can write convincingly without cliches and inexplicable changes in character!

And oh look, Fleur and her mum have made their appearance in this story too. I hope I can pull this off as successfully as other stories. Dame Aloїse's age was indicated in Hugo's book.

And lemmeah squee. There are follows and faves for this story! Thank you guys, thank you (if this is tumblr there will be gifs of HAPPY)! And thank you KellyJoy for your review.

So here it is, Frollo and Esmeralda are gonna be stuck in Notre Dame for some time. What's going to happen? Stay tuned! And let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Boys do not love until they reach the age of maturity.**

_This is awkward,_ thought Esmeralda.

Everyone was seated in a makeshift dining area at the transept, having supper. Myriel had announced that everyone should have meals together during their stay at Notre Dame. While Frollo observed that it would be a practical way to account for everyone every day, Myriel saw this as an excellent opportunity for everyone to mingle. He always advocated the unity of people.

A kind and generous man, if overly optimistic.

By Esmeralda's count, there were about a hundred people in Notre Dame. Eleven merchants and nobles, eight soldiers including Phoebus, thirty homeless people, fourteen children, ten priests and twelve servants. Not to mention 2 horses and a goat which were feeding on hay at a corner. Strangers for the most part, thrown together due to an unforeseen snowstorm.

Not unlike the Court of Miracles, though with less agreeable company. Esmeralda's only friend, Quasimodo, did not want to partake in a crowd like this and chose to stay in his belltower. She would have done the same but for Myriel's insistence that she be with them.

To be honest, most of the people were actually quite at ease. Like her, the homeless probably found Notre Dame to be a much needed sanctuary. The children were gobbling their food greedily. Even the soldiers were taking this as a nice break and being more amiable. Phoebus was seated with them and he was regaling them with anecdote after anecdote. Esmeralda smiled. He did get along with people.

As for herself, it did not escape her that Myriel had seated her at his table, with Frollo and the other priests. Neither did it escape her that some of the nobles at the next table, including Madame Aloїse, viewed her with open dislike and distrust, and only held their tongue out of their esteem for Myriel.

She turned her eyes from them and listened to Myriel's conversation with Frollo, as she tucked into her bowl of nourishing soup. There was sufficient food for two weeks, so there was no need to worry on that front. Many would be sleeping in the nave, as they were unable to climb so many flights of stairs, whether due to age or infirmity. Given the number of people, the captain and his men would take turns to patrol within the cathedral to ensure that there was no foul play.

"I suppose you would prefer your old room, Minister," Myriel asked casually.

Frollo hesitated. "Yes, I suppose so."

"The servants go there occasionally to clean it. They take pains not to move anything in there. Everything is kept in place."

"As I recall, I did not leave much for anyone to move."

"A desk, a bed, a few books."

It puzzled Esmeralda that Frollo should have a room here, while Frollo's face turned sour. He said, "The books. You should have thrown them out. They are only good at amassing dust."

"Is that not something for you to decide, my son?"

Frollo made a non-committal sound and said, "I no longer require them."

"What kind of books are they?" Esmeralda could not restrain herself from asking.

Frollo looked at her and sniffed, "They are books beyond your comprehension gypsy girl. To explain them to you is to cast pearls before swine."

Esmeralda did not get the Biblical reference, but she refused to be insulted. His evasiveness fueled her curiosity further.

"Try me," she said.

Frollo turned back to his bowl.

Myriel chuckled. "I'm afraid our Minister may be a trifle embarrassed by his youthful exploits."

"I cannot imagine that he was ever young," Esmeralda said mildly.

"Oh dear. Does that mean you cannot imagine me young once before as well?" Myriel asked.

"Oh! Yes I can," Esmeralda examined Myriel's face, "You have laugh-lines, father, which are left as proof of the happy times you had growing up. Fro… Minister Frollo has no laugh-lines," she schooled her face to look solemn, "When he smiles, it is without joy. And it is not a smile if it is one of mockery. I believe he was born old. His mother must have been very upset."

Myriel laughed, and a few priests who heard her were trying to hide their own smiles.

"Old people have joys too, child. You have to accept my word when I say I was there with his family when the Minister was baptized. And he looked quite like a babe. We should not be so harsh on others whom we do not know." Myriel understood that Esmeralda may like to jest at Frollo's expense, but he needed to take care that Frollo did not look foolish and that the situation did not become acrimonious.

Myriel's words impressed Esmeralda in a different way, however. As much as she criticized Frollo for not making an effort to understand her people, she was doing the same thing to him. She was judging him based on what other people told her, and it was the foundation which built all the way up to her knee-jerk response when she saw that Frollo refused to go to Quasimodo's aid at the festival. It did not sit comfortably with her.

Myriel went on, "I must concede though, that even as a child Minister Frollo was ascetic. I do think that he thought that life's only purpose was to know. What time he had he spent on learning. He learnt Latin, Greek, and Hebrew at the same time, and he swallowed whole what theology, science, and liberal arts had to offer him. By sixteen, he was as accomplished as the best teachers at the University. Then, his parents arranged that he should take his father's place and he studied the laws and ordinances. Did you not also learn medicine, Minister?"

Frollo winced, "Reverend, there is no need to gratify the gypsy by having her invade my privacy."

"If you don't want to talk about yourself, you might as well accept that others may speak for you. Here I was hoping for a little scandal," Esmeralda teased, "Didn't you have any fun?"

"_Fun_," Frollo's voice dripped with arrogance, "is for idle minds and men of ill discipline."

"But didn't you pull a little prank, or fight a little scuffle? And, father, how does all this relate to the books?" Esmeralda was tenacious once she was determined to find out something.

Myriel said benignly, "Esmeralda, Minister Frollo had a long day. Perhaps we should not aggravate him too much."

"But we were only getting started!" Esmeralda protested, "Minister Frollo can ask anything about me too if he wants," she volunteered gallantly.

Frollo closed his eyes, as though he was suffering by simply being in her presence. It was not the first time Esmeralda thought that Frollo had a tendency to be overly dramatic.

"I have no interest in you, profane witch, except to send you back to the fiery pit."

Myriel opened his mouth to interrupt, but Esmeralda held her own. "Language, Minister! I was told to watch mine when I came here and now I am imparting what I learnt to you." She was beginning to discover that she was having a lot of fun irritating Frollo. "Besides, how can you have such horrible thoughts in a place like this! It is so beautiful and peaceful here," she paused. She did mean that. "Look at us, sitting here, having supper. No one would have imagined this, wouldn't you agree? Since we have no choice but to be stuck here, we can… tolerate each other during our stay. We can be civil, and have a truce," her eyes sparkled with glee, "for now."

Her bright eyes caught Frollo's coal-black ones, and Esmeralda was taken by the depth in his eyes. Before she could make out his clouded emotions, Frollo stood up.

"I am done, Reverend. If you would excuse me, I shall take my leave."

Frollo raised his head haughtily and walked away.

Esmeralda shook her head as she finished her meal.

"I hope someone left some humor in his room."

-0-

**Author's Note:** I've mixed a very little of book!Frollo and DerGlockner!Frollo with Disney!Frollo. And I have no intention of giving Frollo a sob story. Others have done that, which is most likely better than what I could have done. :) Thank you all so, so much for the follows and reviews. It means a lot to know people are reading this and liking it so far. It certainly helps my fragile ego, so keep them coming. :P


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**A true lover is constantly and without intermission possessed by the thought of his beloved.**

It was more aptly described as a cell. Small and nondescript, with a thin bed and clean sheets and a wooden desk.

Frollo lit the lamp on the desk and picked up the offending books. Alchemy. What was he thinking then?

He flipped through the books, which were familiar and yet far removed from him. He looked up at the walls. What the archdeacon omitted to mention to Esmeralda was the carvings left by his youthful exertions in trying to decipher the mysteries of transmuting common metal into gold. It was folly to think that one could be a god.

To Frollo, the cell was a scene frozen in time. Nothing changed here, but he had. He left this place, this life, a lifetime ago, when he donned the robes of the Minister of Justice. Disillusioned by the lack of success alchemy yielded, and disappointed by his church where he shared his original ambitions.

Myriel had a point. Why did he not throw these books away? Why did he agree to come back to his old room?

Because, try as he might to rid himself of them, they were a part of him which he accepted, albeit with difficulty. Although he left this place feeling much aggrieved, as the years passed, Frollo acknowledged his role as Minister of Justice. It was not in his character to do things by halves and he very soon became devoted to Parlement and the people's welfare. He relished being part of the _noblesse de robe_, elucidating political and social issues with other members, cleaning Paris up and making sure that Paris was safe. For the most part. If he could, he would gladly delegate his ceremonious duties of attending balls and festivals, which were to him a complete waste of time. They were banal, vulgar, insipid… Until Esmeralda came along.

Frollo grimaced. Always, always that thought.

"Master?"

Quasimodo stood at the door timidly.

"Quasimodo, you can come in."

Quasimodo tried not to look around Frollo's room, especially at all the carvings on the wall. He may have lived in Notre Dame all his life, but this was one room which he had never stepped in before. "The archdeacon asked me to see if you require anything, sir."

"No, I do not."

"You… you will let me know if you d-do, won't you, master?"

"Yes yes, boy. Go on then, your time will be better employed elsewhere." Frollo narrowed his eyes, "unless you are going to see that gypsy girl."

"Erm…"

Frollo sat down on his bed. He was exhausted physically, but his mind kept playing back the short conversation he had with Esmeralda. Of course he wanted to know more about her, he just could not seem keen. Frollo rubbed his brow in resignation. His twenty-year old self would have been appalled at his weakness.

"Do you like her, Quasimodo?"

Quasimodo bit his lip. There was no point in lying. "Yes, master."

"She does not feel the same way. She is only using you."

"Master, I know… I know you say that gypsies are evil. But she is not like the other gypsies… she is kind to me."

"It isn't kindness, Quasimodo. It is cunning. Kindness is not in a gypsy's nature."

"Master, if I may be bold…"

"Bold? Quasimodo, you disobeyed me and went to the Festival of Fools. I think we are past boldness."

Quasimodo felt like he was going to cry. He had been feeling guilty since that day, and as much as he liked Esmeralda's company, his guilt to Frollo increased the more time he spent with her.

"Master, I can't tell you how sorry I am and how much I regret causing you grief…"

"Perhaps if you sever all communications with the gypsy girl and show that you are truly penitent, I will forgive you. But you were telling me something about being bold."

Quasimodo lowered his head. His master was not making it easy for him.

"I… It's just that I wanted to say… I mean… If you know her, master, you will see that… she is not a witch."

"How much do you think you know her, Quasimodo?"

Frollo did not stop Quasimodo as Quasimodo eagerly recounted his conversations with Esmeralda. Whilst Quasimodo thought Frollo appeared detached and was just gratified that Frollo was indulging him, Frollo was secretly hanging on to every word he was saying about Esmeralda.

Esmeralda's earliest memories were when she was four, when a troupe picked her up in the dirt roads. The troupe told her that she was an orphan or lost child and brought her to travel around Germany, Hungary and lastly France. Some of the womenfolk taught her to dance and when she was of age, the leader wanted to have her marry his son, but she declined as she did not love him.

Eventually, Esmeralda left the troupe with her goat, Djali, and set out on her own at the fringes of Paris. It was not easy, her pride meant that she did not take a single penny from the troupe when she left. With no money and a roof over her head, she lived in destitution, sleeping under bridges and getting scraps of food by dancing or helping any peasant who would even let her into their home. It did not help that she had to stay alert all the time for soldiers who arrested anyone who looked remotely like a gypsy and lechers who thought that she was a prostitute and tried to touch her. This last agitated Frollo, but Quasimodo was talking so enthusiastically he did not see it ("_I asked her what prostitutes do because the Bible only says is that it is immoral when people have sexual relations when they are not married to each other. Esmeralda said that prostitutes kiss men because the men pay them to do it. Ladies really shouldn't be kissing men just for money, master, the Bible is right._").

Esmeralda's luck changed when she helped some peasants and one of them gave her a bracelet and pointed her to a man called Clopin Trouillefou. He saw that she had talent ("_She said he sniggered and she rolled her eyes when she said that, but I don't know why since he was praising her._") That was how she joined the Court of Miracles.

As far as Quasimodo knew, she performed on the streets everyday and learnt tricks from Clopin on how to evade the soldiers.

"And they really are just tricks, master, not witchcraft! She showed me how you can mix different powders to create a flash and smoke to catch people off-guard and make your escape."

"She showed you?"

"We, er, borrowed some materials from the kitchen."

Frollo was skeptical. Having dealt with alchemy, he conceded that mixing certain chemicals would create a reaction, but unless he saw it for himself, he would hold on to the firm belief that Esmeralda was a witch. "Quasimodo, you really should take care not to have her lead you astray. I have to keep an eye on you boy."

"Yes, master."

"As for her background, she is trying to elicit sympathy from you. Ladies of the court do that as well, to attract the man whom they wish to form an attachment with." When Quasimodo queried, Frollo clarified further for him, "Marriage, boy. Women have all sorts of sly ways to get a man's attention and ensnare them in their net."

"I don't see why someone will marry another person because he sympathises with her," Quasimodo noted wisely, "But don't worry, master, Esmeralda doesn't want to marry me," Quasimodo lowered his head and said shyly, "She said that we were friends. Brother and sister."

Esmeralda was the first girl Quasimodo met, and she was an angel. It was understandable that he should fall for her. He was crushed when he deduced and Esmeralda confirmed in a roundabout way that she did not feel the same way, but he came to value his friendship with her all the more because of it. He had to be, no, he was contented.

Frollo, on the other hand, was experiencing a mixture of relief and jealousy.

"I suppose I should be grateful that the witch is not lulling you into some false hope. That does not mean that she is not cunning, it only means that we do not know what her scheme is. Stay clear from her, Quasimodo, do not let her deceive you for one second that you have a chance with her."

"I don't think so master. She likes the captain."

-0-

**Author's Note:** *le gasp* Esmeralda likes Phoebus?! Frollo is not a happy camper.

Thanks for the reviews again! PainlessAnguish, yes, there's a playful side to Esmeralda which I like to bring out, to contrast with Frollo's stiff ways. purpledragon6, no humor at all lol. Auguna, well, Esmeralda isn't a whore in my story, but it doesn't mean men don't try haha. To the anon reviews thank you, and as for the query on whether I plan to upload this story on DA, I didn't think about it. This is going to be a long story, and I don't know how I should go about doing it on DA. So to anyone reading this, should I post this story on DA, and which group should I post it to?

As I was writing this chapter, I wondered if anyone would think this is a wee bit (a tiny tiny bit) like the scene in the book in which Frollo found out Gringoire (that scene in the book is waayyyyy wittier and funnier though you go Victor Hugo). Erm, I wasn't consciously drawing from that scene, this just happened.

I made an anachronistic error in Chapter 5 and went to change it. Instead of dinner, it should have been supper which everyone was having in Notre Dame. Back in the day, "dinner" referred to the first meal of a two-meal day, a heavy meal occurring about noon, which broke the night's fast in the new day. Moralists frowned on breaking the overnight fast too early, and members of the church and cultivated gentry avoided it. Breakfast as we know it was usually confined to men doing manual labor, and tolerated for young children, women, the elderly and the sick. I got this from various pages on Wikipedia. :-P

I love history, and I try to research on various aspects for this story. Like I came across this really interesting website recently. www. traditioninaction History/ A_005_Myths1500s. shtml (take out all the spaces breaking up the link, if you are interested :))

I'm also trying to blend actual historical stuff into the story. Like the House of Foix-Grailly in Chapter 2 which did exist in 1482, or the Burgundian Wars (which was hinted at in the movie itself). There will be a lot of more of this in the second half of this story. Hope the effort shows. X-D


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**No one should be deprived of love without the very best of reasons.**

In the morning, Esmeralda pattered down the stairs to the nave to make sure that the children had a good night's sleep. Being an orphan as well, Esmeralda took it upon herself to look after them.

The children greeted her happily and Esmeralda sat among them. Using a basin of water and cloth, she began cleaning them.

"Esmeralda! Is Clopin with you?"

"No, sweetie," Esmeralda arranged Amélie's skirt, "Do you see him around?"

"He's good at hiding!"

Martin, another child, asked, "If he is not here, you can tell us a story, Esmeralda!"

"I'm not as good a storyteller as Clopin is."

"Oh." There was a round of disappointed faces.

Martin lamented, "The archdeacon said that we have to be quiet and not disturb Mother Mary. But it is boring!"

Esmeralda was bemused, "You have only been here one night, and already you are bored?"

"There's nothing to do here, we walked around a bit but it's just more statues and stones! We wanted to go up, but the priests were afraid that we would get lost."

"And we think it's just going to be more stones," another chirped.

"There's no one fun here, except you!"

"You rascals," Esmeralda laughed. An idea formed in her head.

"Clopin isn't here, but after breakfast, I'll take you all some place fun."

-0-

"Quasimodo! Are you there? I brought company," Esmeralda called out as she and the children stepped onto the platform in the bell tower.

"Oh!" Quasimodo's handicrafts were displayed prominently on his table, and the children rushed forward to check them out. Some climbed onto the table and picked up the figurines.

"This one looks like you, Esmeralda!" Charlotte, a girl of eight, exclaimed and waved the figurine at Esmeralda. "This one looks like that fat butcher who smells funny."

"Esmeralda?" Quasimodo walked towards them and was just as taken aback of the crowd of the children as they were of him.

The children took a look at him and shrank back. They had all heard stories about him, stories told by older people who warned them against doing naughty things or the bell-ringer would find them in the middle of the night and take them to the devil.

One of them shrieked, "It's the Notre Dame monster!" and scrambled behind Esmeralda.

Esmeralda scolded herself for not preparing the children and hurting Quasimodo for their tactlessness.

"He's not a monster," she snapped. Before Quasimodo could leave, Esmeralda took him by the arm and dragged him to the children. Quasimodo deserved more than his gargoyles and wooden carvings. He deserved friends and Esmeralda was determined that he should have them.

"This is Quasimodo, and he lives here because he rings the bells. He is the host, and we are his guests. Is that not so, Quasimodo?"

"Er," as far as Quasimodo knew, he did not actually invite them here.

Esmeralda pressed on, "When Quasimodo is free, he makes these toys. Don't you like them? Don't you want to play with them?"

The children looked at the toys. They really were good. Better than the ones in the toy-maker's shop down the street too.

Esmeralda looked at Quasimodo, "Why don't you teach them how to make them Quasimodo?"

There was an awkward moment where no one said anything. Then, Charlotte walked timidly and stood in front of Quasimodo. She cocked her head to a side, and summoned her courage. She showed the figurine of Esmeralda to Quasimodo, "Can you make one of me too?"

Quasimodo blinked. Reaching out, he took the figurine from the little girl's hand. She did not recoil.

He said softly, "Yes, I can."

In an instant, the children started talking over one another.

"I want one for me too!" "Me first!" "Can I keep this horse?"

Esmeralda smiled in triumph.

-0-

Frollo could hear the noise even before he reached the bell tower and the sight of children sitting all about the floor astonished him.

Quasimodo had determined that the children did not have enough strength to carve wood, and that it may not be safe for them to use sharp objects anyway. So he enlisted their assistance in painting, and provided them with all the paints and brushes he had. They were not as skilled as he was and their brushwork was not as accurate as his, but Quasimodo did not mind. That there were others other than Esmeralda who were willing to spend time with him encouraged him greatly.

He moved among the children, guiding them and wiping their hands and faces when they became smeared with paint. Esmeralda was perched on a corner of the table, painting a figurine of Djali.

"Quasi!" The children had taken to calling him, "I have no more green paint!"

"Take the blue and yellow paints," Quasimodo explained patiently, and demonstrated by swirling the two colors which combined and produced a deep hue of green.

"Hey! That's pretty neat!" And the children started mixing colors to see what they could get.

Frollo rubbed his temple. He was not in his element at all.

Clearing his throat, he succeeded in gaining everyone's attention.

Seeing Frollo, Esmeralda pouted. _It's like the man just sucks out the fun wherever he goes_.

"A fine mess this is," Frollo said. He swept past everyone, and sat primly at the table where he and Quasimodo would dine together. Opening his Bible which he had brought with him, he cocked an eyebrow at Esmeralda.

"Mondays are when I have Bible studies with Quasimodo. I mentioned, gypsy, about training one's mind and discipline. It is a concept that your kind is not used to, but we are in Notre Dame, and I am still Quasimodo's guardian. That is to say, your frivolity is a hindrance, and you should leave."

It was not Esmeralda's style to back down from a challenge, but if she were to make a scene, she risked having Frollo using it as an excuse to cut her off from Quasimodo. Although the archdeacon supported her, he also told her numerous times that she should not engage in unnecessary conflict with Frollo. But she did not want to leave just as the children were making a connection with Quasimodo. Already, she could see Quasimodo breaking out of his shell. He did not talk about his gargoyle friends for one.

Esmeralda mulled over it and decided, "There is room for all of us. Kids, if you promise to be quiet, and let the good minister teach Quasimodo and not disturb them, we will stay here and finish painting. How does that sound?"

The children looked at one another. Quasimodo wasn't scary at all once they got to know him. The ominous presence of the Minister of Justice was different. On the other hand, they were having a lot of fun painting and Esmeralda would be with them.

Martin spoke for them, "We'll keep quiet!"

-0-

Esmeralda pretended to concentrate on her painting, as she listened in on Frollo's lesson.

Frollo and Quasimodo were currently going through a book apparently written by a man called John, and there was a lot of discussion about disobedience and keeping commandments. She figured that Frollo was alluding to Quasimodo's actions these past few days.

As for the children, they kept to their painting, but gradually became captivated by what they probably thought were stories. When Frollo moved on to talk about a boy called David and how he killed a giant with a single stone in his sling, the children perked up.

"Are there really giants?" one child asked.

Frollo and Quasimodo turned their heads in surprise, not aware that they had an audience. The latter was earnestly focusing on his studies to show his master that he was compliant, while the former was earnestly focusing on not focusing on Esmeralda.

Frollo cleared his throat and said diffidently, "The Bible says that there are."

"We have never seen them before! Did David kill all of them?"

"The Bible does not say."

"If there are giants, are there fairies?"

One by one, the children bombarded Frollo with questions. Esmeralda was amused at his efforts to handle them. She had to admit that Frollo was rather good, and was oddly touched that he should entertain them.

"There is this statue outside we see and come up with stories ourselves!" a boy called Fabien said importantly, "It's that statue with a head in his hand. My story is that it's a monster who was born without a head and he spent his whole life searching for one which will fit him."

"Don't blasphemy boy. That is St. Denis. He was bishop over a thousand years ago, and succeeded in converting many to the path of Our Lord. He alarmed the heathens, who decided to behead him with a sword. But St. Denis' cause was holy, and after his execution, he stood up and carried his head. He walked six miles, and preached his sermons along the way."

The children's eyes were full of marvel.

"Do you know everything about the Bible and the church?" Fabien asked.

"One should not presume to know everything," Frollo replied stiffly. "Education is a lifelong journey. Without it, we are no different from beasts."

The children did not understand philosophy, and Frollo's response flew over their heads. It was therefore timely when Quasimodo said, "I have to ring the bells."

Children's attention span was short by nature. When Quasimodo mentioned his departure, they said in chorus, "We want to go with you!" and scampered after him.

Esmeralda sauntered over to Frollo, who looked like he was mystified as to what had hit him. She sat in Quasimodo's chair and took the Bible. Frollo's eyes followed her movements warily.

Esmeralda did not know how to read, but pretended to scrutinize the pages.

"So, wise man, does the Bible say that gypsies are witches?"

Frollo's eyes lingered on her fingers playing at the edges of the parchment. Very slowly, like a man in pain she thought, he raised his head to look at her.

"It is in the Bible that thou shalt not suffer a witch to live," he said flatly.

"But does it say that gypsies are witches then?"

"You are a daughter of Egypt, my dear. By your ungodly birth, you are a heathen and a witch."

"If I am a witch," Esmeralda said wistfully, "I can fly from here. I can put so much food on the table that my people will not go hungry. Surely there are many things we can do for our benefit."

"It only means that your powers are not as strong as you like."

"You have an answer to everything, don't you?" Esmeralda said, "But I think you come up with answers which suit you. You have no basis for saying that gypsies are witches."

"I have every basis for saying that you are one. There is proof of the spells you cast."

"What spells?"

Frollo opened his mouth, and shut it quickly.

"Well, the evidence will present itself once I arrest you and you are at trial."

"I will have a trial?"

"As it should be. I do not hang a man who does not deserve it or confess his crimes."

"Torture," Esmeralda said heatedly, "is not a method to get confessions. People will say anything to make it stop. And don't make yourself out to be fair. I've heard about how soldiers turn up in the middle of the night to kill everyone in sight including children and how gypsies are sent to the dungeons and left to languish and die."

Frollo quirked his eyebrow. A smile slowly formed, a smile which was quite different from the eerie, sinister one that Esmeralda was used to seeing on his face. It was a smile which was almost friendly.

"It is curious what people hear," he said sardonically, "They hear what others say they heard from even more others. I have been told that I once wiped out an entire hide-out filled with hundreds of gypsies. Sometimes I wish I was that effective. But if these were all true, I do wonder that there should be survivors to tell the tale."

And Esmeralda gaped at him.

-0-

**Author's Notes: **Thanks always for the reviews! Keep them coming! :-P

KuriSari, thank you for your lovely review. purpledragon6, so glad you found this interesting. PainlessAnguish, I will update as soon as I can, but I like going through my stuff and tweaking it. Maybe I'm just obsessive... random anon, I'll upload the story on DA as soon as I can too (maybe I'm also lazy... is that a contradiction?) Aguna, they will have other things to talk about too. :-)

"... Surely there are many things we can do for our benefit." I think that's a line referenced from the 1939 movie version.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**No one can be bound by a double love.**

"I'm not saying that we are saints. I'm saying that we are human like anyone else."

It was after supper, and Esmeralda was still debating with Frollo. Frollo's revelation made Esmeralda realize even more that Frollo may have been demonized just as her people were demonized by him and others who held the same prejudices. If Frollo could be reasoned with, this would the best chance she had in persuading the most powerful man in Paris that her people were not a danger to Paris.

Frollo said exasperatedly, "There are numerous records of witches found. Men like Andrzej, who bewitched Jacques Firmin to kill his son. Women like Nuri, who tried to seduce Bruno d'Ast. He had her burnt, and he was cured."

"I am not Andrzej and I am not Nuri." Esmeralda retorted.

Frollo's face darkened.

"Anyway, people like to blame others when they do something wrong. It doesn't make them right and it doesn't mean witchcraft," Esmeralda said, heedless to Frollo's inner turmoil.

Frollo took his time to sip his wine, a strategy he used when he wished to organize his thoughts. He and Esmeralda had been sparring for hours on a topic which he personally believed they would never reach a consensus. Quite frankly, he was astounded that they could spend so much time talking with each other without either of them losing their temper, let alone on such a contentious matter between them. It was very unlike their previous altercations and he did not want to contemplate the implications.

"You seem to insist that I should agree with you because we had a few vigorous arguments, gypsy. I follow the path of the righteous and you… do not. You wish for your own miracle, you will only be vexed if you think you can achieve it."

Esmeralda's mind flashed back to the other nobles' condescending looks and caustic remarks.

_"What barbarous outfit is that creature wearing?"_

_"No neckerchief, and the dress! So short!"_

_"She acts high and mighty, but she is most assuredly a whore. All these women are."_

A single prayer to God was not going to change things.

"No," introspection set in, "I don't think I can."

Esmeralda's voice became so sad that it penetrated Frollo. He ought to rejoice, but found that he could not. In concealing his own distress, his response was harsher than he intended.

"Repent then, or you will be chained to hell for eternity."

Esmeralda stared at Frollo.

"You know," she said, "your religion and the archdeacon's religion seem so different. Yours is full of rage and punishment. He talks about love and forgiveness. I like that much more. With love and forgiveness, there is hope. I'm only a gypsy, an outcast. Maybe I can't change that, or anything overnight," she smiled, "But maybe someday, things will change." Her eyes twinkled, "It's a good thing that the archdeacon is the priest, and you are the judge. I will not follow your religion."

Frollo flinched. He got up and walked away.

Esmeralda was quizzically, "What? What did I say?"

Myriel, who stayed with them after dinner, and listened to their exchange, spoke up.

"You have a knack for opening the Minister's old wounds, Esmeralda."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Before he became Minister of Justice, Frollo studied to become a priest."

-0-

Esmeralda thought about her day with Frollo as she headed back to her cell.

_Her day with Frollo?_ She shook her head. Who would have thought that it could ever be a sentence?

It was true though, for despite Frollo's apparent aversion, they did end up having a civil conversation. Actually, it was more than civil. It was interesting.

Although she was popular in the Court of Miracles and some of the peasants in Paris, Esmeralda had few friends. If she was incredulous about Quasimodo having gargoyles as friends, she should be mindful that Djali was the only constant companion she had to whom she confided things to. There was hardly anyone she could really talk to.

She could not befriend Parisians, because they were Parisians. Even though they walked the same streets every day, she was the outsider, who did not really know what Parisians did and what their lives were like. Her people shared the same love for music and dance and enthusiasm in life, but other than that, they were not very curious people, except for Clopin, but he had many other responsibilities. The gypsies as a whole were contented to survive. She wanted more. She wanted life to be better for her people. She wanted life to be more about dancing, when she knew that she would one day not be able to dance. She wanted to learn how to read and write and not be frustrated by words which she saw everyday. She wanted to learn how to bake bread. It seemed irrational to want to learn how to bake bread when they were so many other things to wish for, and there it was.

In Quasimodo, she found someone who could exchange knowledge the other did not have. She taught him confidence and self-worth; he taught her about the church and Parisians' practices.

In Frollo, she found someone who could exchange ideas. For such a bigoted and infuriating man, he opened her mind, which was buzzing from their conversation and trying to reason each other's arguments and thought processes. It was exhilarating.

She heard a click. Alerted, she spun around in a defensive mode.

"Why is it that every time we meet, you have to get your guard up?"

Esmeralda smiled sweetly, "Because you are a soldier, Captain Phoebus, and my instincts are to fight."

Phoebus stood next to her, "Well, at least you didn't pull out my sword and threatened to shave me this time."

"I don't need your sword to beat you."

"Ah. Yes. You have your kid."

"I was thinking more of a candle stand."

"It's a good thing that there isn't one around here then."

Esmeralda smirked and relaxed. Phoebus had been decent to her, and he did have a sense of humor. "Doing your rounds tonight?" she asked.

"As always."

"Did you escort Mademoiselle Fleur-de-Lys to her room before that? She jumps at dark stairways and empty passages." Esmeralda joked.

"As always." Phoebus replied drily and saluted, "Would you also like me to escort you to your room, mademoiselle?"

"Mademoiselle does not need an escort." Esmeralda snorted in an unladylike manner. "I'm not a weakling."

"By that, you mean that Mademoiselle Fleur-de-Lys is a weakling." Phoebus chided, but his tone was droll, "You should get to know her. She is sheltered and Madame Aloїse keeps her docile. But once you have a chance to talk to her, she is quite sensible. She just needs a friend to guide her."

"You are doing fine in that department, I think," Esmeralda said.

Phoebus shrugged, "I cannot babysit her the whole time."

Esmeralda mimicked his movement, "Madame Aloїse won't agree to have me. Besides, I think the young lady herself is a little hostile towards me." she said, "It's your fault, you know. She sees me as some kind of rival."

"Who wouldn't," Phoebus said in full admiration.

"Are you saying that I am a rival?" Esmeralda asked.

Phoebus moved closer to her and Esmeralda knew what he planned to do, "Esmeralda, no one can compete with you."

It was mollifying to be so complimented when she was surrounded by many who found her nothing more than trash. In that moment, if nothing else, Esmeralda was thankful.

"I am flattered, Captain Phoebus," Esmeralda said.

Phoebus leant in and made his move. Esmeralda closed her eyes in anticipation. They kissed.

Phoebus was brave and kind and handsome. He was the total package, the knight in shining armor, the man of any woman's dream. His kiss was warm and generous. She liked it. But… that was it.

As though he sensed her thoughts, Phoebus pulled back.

They did not say another word, and smiled at each other.

-0-

**Author's Notes:**

"Women like Nuri, who tried to seduce Bruno d'Ast." The names were taken from Victor Hugo's book, in the scene where Frollo visited Esmeralda in prison and confessed his feelings.

*le gasp* Phoebus kissed Esmeralda? But... that's it? Stay tuned!

Again, thank you all for the follows and reviews. It's always great to receive them. :-D


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**He whom the thought of love vexes eats and sleeps very little.**

The next few days found Esmeralda pretty much left to her own devices.

The children monopolized Quasimodo most of the day. They came up with all sorts of games to play and the bell tower was a riot as it was converted into a different world each day. One day, they were pirates, swinging from column to column and waving swords which Quasimodo made for them; another day, they were kings and queens fighting over parcels of land. When the children became adventurous, they had Quasimodo bring them to explore every nook and cranny of the church. No place was spared from these inquisitive children. The servants, and some of the homeless who volunteered to help out, had to chase the children from the kitchen on a few occasions as they ran around the place.

It did not take long before the children coaxed Quasimodo to join them for dinner, which caused a flurry among the others initially. Under the watchful eyes of those concerned, no harm came to pass.

Myriel held private sessions with the nobles, and used the time to account to them where the donations which they gave regularly were used.

Phoebus continued to get to know the other soldiers and gain their trust. Working with them, he discussed ways to improve the efficiency of their daily patrols in Paris once they got out of Notre Dame, including setting up stations at different parts of Paris and sending out groups of soldiers on a rotational basis so that they would become familiar with all the streets. In his dry fashion, he told Esmeralda that he finally figured out how to read a map.

As for Frollo, Esmeralda did not see much of him. During mealtimes, he would start off stiff and taciturn and she would have to provoke him into talking to her. She did not succeed each time, but when she did, their conversations could span the better part of the night.

Frollo also unwittingly became the children's storyteller. They would ambush him after dinner, and plead with him to tell them more stories. Esmeralda would sit with Quasimodo and the children and listen to him narrate about Moses and the parting of the Red Sea, Abraham and the sacrifice of Issac, Jonah and the whale. He probably thought that he was obligated to spread the word of God to the ignorant, but settled into his role in the end. He would even test the children thereafter, and seemed satisfied that they retained what he had taught.

Esmeralda wondered what Frollo did most of the day.

-0-

Frollo was locked in his cell as dawn broke. He was trying to get some sleep, which, as usual, eluded him last night. Twisting the sheets on his bed in throes of agony, Frollo groaned and sat up. He was worried that he was going mad. Mad because of a slip of a girl.

He had tried every night to forget Esmeralda so that he could sleep. If he slept, it was due to exhaustion. Frollo rubbed his temples in defeat. Since he could not forget her, perhaps he should try a different remedy. He would allow himself to think about Esmeralda as much as he wanted and try to purge all thought of her through that channel. Frollo gathered his thoughts. He was a man of reason; he could study this knotty issue in the cool, detached manner which he was accustomed to.

To wit: Why the hell was he so damnably enamored by Esmeralda?

For one, she was beautiful. Frollo's manhood agreed, and Frollo growled in annoyance as he hardened against his will. It seemed that his desire for her would not abate and he was now battling with himself.

He forced himself to go on thinking. Why did he react so quickly and so badly to Esmeralda? Why was he never attracted to any other woman before? He had been acquainted with ladies and noblewomen who were reputed beauties. None as beautiful as Esmeralda, his mind, and body, pointed out.

Granted. But… surely he could not be that… shallow?

Frollo's mind turned to Esmeralda's dance, his introduction to this alluring creature. Perhaps it was her palpable joy when she danced that swept him away. Or perhaps it was the conversations they had. Frollo always thought that he could not stand women who talked too much. He found most of them opinionated and tedious. Not so Esmeralda. Uneducated though she was, she had a piquant wit and was far cleverer than those close-minded women, Frollo acknowledged, oblivious to the irony of his last thought. When Esmeralda talked, and she did talk a lot when she wanted to, she was engaging. There were times when her astuteness staggered him and, while reticent in his praise, he secretly conceded some of the points she was making. There were ladies who had been described as vivacious by other men, but after knowing Esmeralda, Frollo thought the word too poorly and liberally used.

For Esmeralda's intelligence and liveliness of mind, Frollo did find himself enthralled.

Every day, unbeknownst to Esmeralda, Frollo sought her out in Notre Dame whenever he could to learn more about her. When he found her, he refused to let her out of his sight. He watched her every movement and interaction with the others. He imprinted in his memory every smile, every laugh, every hug, pretending that it was for him. Her grace, her compassion, her common sense, they were evident in her actions. She was quick to anger, but equally quick to forgive. As Quasimodo rightly said he would see if he got to know her, it seemed that she genuinely cared for people.

When Esmeralda was alone, she liked to perch herself by the window and stare at the scenery outside. When she was this still and at her most unguarded, Frollo could not shake of the impression that she was a guardian angel watching over a sleeping city. Far away and unattainable.

Each night, Frollo returned to his cell in greater despair and confusion. Frollo did not know anymore if his feelings were a result of her spells or his own volition. Was she truly a demon, or, worse, only human? If the former, why did God not save him? If the latter, what did it mean that he should be so drawn to her? Frollo shuddered. Spell or no spell, he was chained to her. If he could, he would be master of her and make her pay for tormenting him. But, deep down, he suspected that if she snapped her fingers, it would bring him to his knees, and he would give her anything to please her.

Did he… did he then love her? Love, such a strange syllable to his mind and on his lips. He had never loved a woman before. He thought he loved his parents but, in retrospect, their relationship had always been cordial and respectful. Dignified. So unlike his obsession over Esmeralda. He knew he loved his country, church and God, but such love was ingrained in him since he was born. It was not any less real because of it, but his love was nurtured and when he matured, he continued to love because he discerned it was the right thing to do. He loved then with his mind. No one told him to love Esmeralda, and here he was, sick in his heart and in his soul.

Giving up his attempts to go to sleep, Frollo left his cell and went to the nave, hoping that reciting the rosary in front of God would alleviate his predicament.

It was there that he came across Phoebus and Fleur-de-Lys.

Frollo's demeanor grew more morose when he saw Phoebus. Ever since Quasimodo informed him of Esmeralda's… preference, Frollo avoided Phoebus so that he would not trounce him. He would not have any qualms doing it, except that they were cooped up in Notre Dame, and Myriel may not approve if he saw Frollo stabbing the captain with great energy.

It did not mean that Frollo was not plotting to get rid of Phoebus or send him back to the wars. Whenever he spied Phoebus and Esmeralda together chatting away, his plots became more outlandish. One of them included his soldiers raining arrows on Phoebus.

Phoebus and Fleur-de-Lys stood up and greeted Frollo.

"Minister Frollo, I should give you my report, sir." Phoebus turned back to Fleur-de-Lys and whispered something which caused her to smile. Frollo blinked when he saw her holding Phoebus' hand, albeit briefly. It was a rather forward move on her part.

"I see that you have kept yourself busy, captain," Frollo said sarcastically after Fleur-de-Lys left to find her mother, "Enjoying Paris, I take it?"

Phoebus gave a lop-sided smile which caused Frollo to sneer. "Yes sir."

"I know the mademoiselle's family. It will be imprudent to toy with the lady's affections. Are you not wooing the gypsy girl in spite of my express prohibition," Frollo hastened to add, "so I was told?"

"Sir, I have no intentions to deceive any woman. Esmeralda and I, we already have an understanding."

Frollo blanched.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice low and apprehensive. Had they become lovers? When did it happen? How did he not see this?

Phoebus explained to Frollo that although they admired each other, and got along well, it became evident that Esmeralda had no romantic inclinations towards him. Self-preservation meant that he did not mention about their kiss. He merely said, "We decided that it was best that we stayed as friends. So you see sir, I am not a faithless man."

"And now you are with Mademoiselle Fleur-de-Lys?" Frollo asked.

"Yes sir, and I intend to honor her, with her mother's permission."

Frollo pondered over this new information.

"How swiftly your feelings change, Captain," Frollo said solemnly, "Did you not tell me that the gypsy girl was the most beautiful woman?"

"She still is, sir," Phoebus agreed, "But when a woman turns you down, you have to move on. At least we cleared the air before my feelings developed even more over time."

"Time," Frollo said softly, more to himself than to Phoebus who was giving his report, "is no factor for feelings to take root."

-0-

**Author's** **Notes:**

Thanks as always for the lovely reviews!

purpledragon6: It is coincidence that just as you are questioning the pairings, my next chapter is focused on Frollo and his hidden feelings about Esmeralda. :-) I just need to make clear that this story is eventually going to be a Fresme one.

owleyes1213: A valid point about the issue of the Court of Miracles! Perhaps I'll be able to rectify this in later chapters. For now, I'm just going to say Frollo's focus has changed somewhat after meeting a certain gypsy. :-P

yujuh7: Thank you very much for your review. Yes, I am trying to create a plausible relationship between Frollo and Esmeralda. But this story is rated M for a reason. :-P

KuriSari: Thank you for your review, as always. Deeply appreciated.

I guess this is as good a point as any to highlight to you awesome readers that there will be smut, and there will be unpleasant stuff which happens in the middle of the story, but I am more or less written the whole plot so I am headed towards a happy resolution (and trying to be as realistic as possible along the way). I like happy endings. :-P

Also, I realise there are quite a number of followers, and I am really really happy that you guys like this to follow it. Do give a shout-out, leave a review, lemme know what you think! :-)


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**A true lover considers nothing good except what he thinks will please his beloved. **

The next morning, Frollo woke up to find that his hips were bucking violently and that he had made a mess.

"Urgh." Frollo fell back onto his bed. He was mortified. Being a man, he had of course had… incidents, which he regarded as bodily inconveniences. Saint Augustine held that they did not pollute the conscience of a man, because they were not voluntary carnal acts.

Unless it was caused by lewd thoughts or fantasies. And Frollo knew that he had sinned because he had been dreaming of Esmeralda.

_She was dancing for him. Like when she was dancing during the Festival of Fools, she moved towards him and sat on his lap. This time, he pulled her to him so as to ensure that she could not leave._

_Esmeralda did not object. Instead, she threw her arms around his neck and rubbed her body suggestively against his. She breathed into his ear, "I don't care for Quasimodo or Phoebus or any other man. There is one man for me."_

_"Who is it?" Frollo asked, his voice hoarse with desire._

_Her eyes shone brilliantly with the same desire, "You. Only you."_

_She didn't peck him on his nose, but kissed him fully on his lips._

_"Take me," Esmeralda's hands slipped beneath his clothes and he whimpered as he felt feather-light caresses across his body. "Take me, I'm yours."_

And that was when Frollo woke up with a cry and spilt onto himself.

Frollo's feverish mind was occupied with Esmeralda. He suspected that she knew that something was amiss when he became more garrulous during supper yesterday. He was actually elated that she was not involved with Phoebus. Once more, the gypsy girl held dominance over his emotions. They were tied to her, and she was pulling his heartstrings with caprice.

Frollo concluded that he was doomed.

-0-

"… eighteen, nineteen, twenty." Esmeralda finished counting and opened her eyes. "Watch out, kids, here we come!"

Hide-and-seek was not something one associated with Notre Dame, but the place was splendid for the game. Conscious not to bother the other occupants, Esmeralda walked about slowly, with Djali in tow. For their purposes, Esmeralda had set down a rule that the children could only hide on the ground floor. It was still an enormous area to cover, but with Esmeralda's sharp eyes, and Djali's keen nose, it was not too great a challenge to find the children.

In less than an hour, there was a group of disgruntled children huddled together.

"It's not fair!" Martin said, "You didn't say that Djali can find us."

"I didn't say that Djali cannot do it either," Esmeralda quipped. "Besides, that will teach you to take so many biscuits from the kitchen!"

"Djali ate all of them anyway!"

Esmeralda grinned as she counted the children. Her grin soon faltered.

"Where's Fabien?" she asked.

-0-

Fabien was hugging the top of one of the columns with great determination. Esmeralda and Quasimodo promised that the last one to be found would get a special prize from Quasimodo. After his persistent questioning, Quasimodo hinted that the prize had wheels.

The boy resolved that he would win this game.

He felt very clever at first. He saw how high the column was and, at the spur of the moment, climbed up with the speed of a monkey. Settling at the top, he believed that Esmeralda would not think of looking up and seeing him hanging there.

As the time passed however, the boy's arms became tired and he realized that there was going to be a problem going back down. If no one came to rescue him, he was going to drop to his death.

He would win the prize. That was the whole point.

Nonetheless, it was quite a relief when he saw Frollo. The minister was looking gloomy and it did not look like it was the best time to call him, but Fabien was not deterred. His life was at stake after all.

"Hey, Minister!" Fabien shouted cheerily.

Frollo's head jerked up and his eyes widened at the ludicrous spectacle of a boy clinging at the acanthus leaves at the top of the capital.

"What lunacy is this?"

"We're playing hide-and-seek, sir! I'm pretty sure I'm going to win!" Fabien almost lost his footing and wriggled about to regain it. "But I need a little help! I'm stuck!"

"You should have thought of the consequences before being stuck in this situation, shouldn't you?"

"I'm thinking about them consequences now, sir! What does 'consequences' mean sir?"

Frollo arched his eyebrow. "It means that you are in an unenviable position boy," he said unsympathetically, "How did you get up there?"

"I climbed!"

"Well, climb back down then!"

"I dare not sir! I think I'm slipping!"

"You can drop to the ground then," said Frollo coolly.

"And break my neck sir?"

"Perhaps."

"Cor! Will I be like Headless Denis?"

"Not with your impertinence." Frollo replied testily. He was tempted to walk away to teach Fabien a lesson, but there would be the risk that the boy would not live to learn it anyhow. It would also upset Esmeralda, who he knew was very attached to the children. Mildly amusing as the children were, Frollo really gave them more time than he would be willing to so that he could see Esmeralda give her full attention to him, and to look at him without censure.

He gave a long-suffering sigh.

"I am not going to climb up and collect you. My proposal is that you will let go of the column, and I will catch you. Do you accept that?"

Fabien considered it.

"It sounds about right, sir!"

Frollo stood at the bottom of the capital, "At the count of three then, Master Fabien?"

"One…"

"Two…"

"Three!" Fabien whooped and let go of the capital, knocking into Frollo who caught him firmly. The force caused Frollo and Fabien to collapse on the floor.

"We're alive and safe!" Fabien declared.

Frollo winced, "I cannot say I concur." He picked himself up gingerly, and saw Fabien running towards Esmeralda, who was standing nearby listening to their exchange. She was smiling with mirth.

"Esmeralda! I won, didn't I?" Fabien yelled.

"Ssh." Esmeralda brushed his hair and checked Fabien. "You were so loud, all I needed was to follow your voice."

"But I won, right?"

"Yes, you did, you imp."

Fabien crowed victoriously and sped up the stairs to find Quasimodo.

Frollo was busily smoothing his robes out as Esmeralda walked over to him. She smiled as she helped him straighten his collar, and felt an unexpected pang when he froze at her simple gesture. She brushed it aside by saying lightly, "My, my, aren't you the hero?"

Frollo muttered, "It was not as though I could leave him. The archdeacon will have _my _neck."

Esmeralda tucked a stray hair back into place on his head and replied in gaiety. "Your neck is safely lodged for now then Minister."

Frollo stood rigidly and kept his eyes on the floor. Esmeralda realized that she was fussing over him. Fussing over Frollo! No wonder he looked like he was being attacked or something. "I should check on the children," she said and hurried off. If she had looked back, she would have seen Frollo staring after her with such an intense longing she would begin to understand his heart.

-0-

**Author's Notes: **Guys, thanks so much for the reviews and the follows! They really mean a lot to me. When I started this, I didn't know how it would be received, and I'm really happy that people seem to like it. :-)

I also posted a Fresme story under the Books section, called "A Slight Twist of Fate", please check it out!

As always, please let me know what you think of that and this story! I love reviews! X-D


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**A true lover does not desire to embrace in love anyone except his beloved.**

Quasimodo watched Esmeralda as she hummed a tune. He smiled and asked, "Did something good happen?"

Esmeralda was surprised, "Sorry?"

"You seem quite happy about something."

"But I am always happy!" Esmeralda said in a flippant manner.

"Happier," Quasimodo remarked.

"Maybe I woke up on the right side of the bed," Esmeralda replied nonchalantly and went on with her task. She was helping Quasimodo clear some debris which accumulated over the days when the children had fun and left things lying around irresponsibly. Esmeralda felt that they really should have a word with the children, who had gone off to frolic at the kitchen. As she rummaged through piles of rags and sheets, her hand came into contact with something.

"Quasimodo…" Esmeralda pulled out a gem, "What is this?"

"Oh. That. The archdeacon said that it was next to me when Master Frollo found me at Notre Dame. They don't know what it is, but I keep it because it's a part of me… Maybe one day I will find out where I come from."

Esmeralda examined the intricate engravings on the gem, "Quasimodo, I have to go."

Quasimodo raised his eyebrows in surprise when Esmeralda left abruptly.

-0-

Frollo had confined himself to his room again, trying to seek solace in his Bible. From time to time, his hand unconsciously crept to his cheek, where Esmeralda's fingers had grazed it. How gentle her touch was, how gentle she could be to him if he let her…

Said gentle lady burst into his room, shaking positively with anger. Esmeralda accosted him with a gem by waving it furiously in front of him.

"This is an amulet to keep a person safe. A gypsy's amulet." Esmeralda said pointedly. "Quasimodo may not know what this is, but surely you do. You must have seen amulets and talismans like this all the time. It's not something that a gypsy just gives anyone. How did Quasimodo have it? He said it was with him when you found him!"

Frollo blanched. He knew that he needed to tread carefully. "If it was already with Quasimodo when I found him, it was not I who gave it to him."

"Don't act dense with me. If you suspected that Quasimodo was related to gypsies, you would have tried to find out more. Is Quasimodo a gypsy?"

"A singular question, since Quasimodo does not look like a gypsy, with his light skin and red hair. Do you not agree?"

"Not if he has this amulet. Before, I wouldn't have suspected that Quasimodo could be a gypsy. Apparently, neither does he," Esmeralda said. Her eyes narrowed and she asked in an accusatory manner, "There's more to Quasimodo than what you've told him, isn't there?"

Frollo remained silent for a while. Esmeralda crossed her arms and glared at him. She was not going to leave until she got to the bottom of this.

"Twenty years ago," Frollo began, "Paris was even more chaotic than it is today. It was my fourth year as Minister of Justice and I was fighting to save Paris from vermin invading and infecting her."

To Esmeralda's credit, she did not take the bait. She knew that Frollo deliberately referred to her people as vermin with the aim of getting her onto another argument and deflecting the original question.

Seeing that Esmeralda resolute in finding out about Quasimodo's past, Frollo grimaced and continued, "There was a time when I personally patrolled the borders with the soldiers at night. Sometimes, my spies or informants got wind of gypsies who conspired with others to give them safe passage into Paris. It was one of those nights, when my men and I laid in waiting for a group we were told was coming in through the Seine."

"Our information proved correct and we saw a boat with four gypsies pulling next to the docks. Three men, one woman. What we did not know was that the woman had a baby with her." Frollo looked at Esmeralda, "Yes, the baby was Quasimodo. His father could not explain why the baby looked so different from him and his wife, and refused to believe his wife had been unfaithful. There was no reason for me to make further inquiries at the time. And, after all, it was hardly a surprise to me that vessels of the devil could produce a monster."

Esmeralda spoke up, "Quasimodo is not a monster."

Frollo shrugged, "Do not admonish me for thinking that he was. I saw you at the festival, when you pulled at his face. You thought Quasimodo was wearing a mask, and when you realized he was not, you were as shocked as I was when I first saw him."

"And don't think I didn't regret it," Esmeralda said, "Quasimodo may be disfigured, but he is the sweetest boy anyone can meet. Can't you see that?"

Yes, Frollo could see that. Although the prospect of being saddled with the baby had been abhorrent to him, Frollo kept his bargain with Myriel (and to that extent, God) and raised Quasimodo. After the initial fright, Quasimodo turned out to be a quiet boy and Frollo learnt that he could easily bend him to his will, for Quasimodo had nothing but gratitude for him. Gratitude at first, Frollo noted, followed by fear over the years. For Frollo was an austere master, and as soon as Quasimodo expressed his wishes to leave Notre Dame, Frollo coldly doused his hopes by drumming into Quasimodo's head that he was a monster who would be ridiculed or worse, stoned, if he ventured outdoors.

In spite of it all, in spite of Frollo's lessons that people were inherently bad, Quasimodo was inherently… kind. Kind to the few who knew him, kind to the smallest animals who found their way to his sanctuary. What happened to that bird Quasimodo had been taking care of?

But Frollo could not afford to think well of Quasimodo. He was nothing more than a tool who would be of use to him. That one lie became the all-encompassing truth.

Until Esmeralda posed her question, and Frollo was compelled to answer it.

"If Quasimodo has any good qualities, it is no doubt through my tutoring and the grace of God."

Esmeralda scoffed at Frollo's conceit, "Well, how did you end up taking care of him? What happened to Quasimodo's parents?"

"I imprisoned his father and sent him and the other men to the galleys. What happened to them I do not know, nor do I care."

"You sent them to their death!" Esmeralda cried, having heard the chances of survival of slaves in the galleys.

"They would have polluted Paris and their punishment was just."

Esmeralda's expression was one of anger, "And Quasimodo's mother?"

"She died." There was a pause, "I did not kill her if that is what you are thinking."

It was not what she was thinking, but Esmeralda did not correct him. "How did she die then?"

"As I said earlier, we did not know that there was a baby with the gypsies. When one of the soldiers saw Quasimodo's mother carrying a bundle, I thought she was hiding stolen goods. She broke away and I gave chase. I reached her before she could get inside Notre Dame. There was a scuffle. She fell. It was an accident. You can ask the archdeacon. He was there. He was the one who charged me with looking after Quasimodo." Myriel had been livid that fateful night, but upon reviewing the events he had witnessed, he later acknowledged that it was an accident. Nevertheless, he insisted that Frollo should look after Quasimodo.

Esmeralda was silent for several moments, before she spoke. Her tone was even.

"You lied to Quasimodo. You told him that his mother abandoned him."

"No, I did not lie to the boy when I said that. From what his father told me, they had planned to leave him at Notre Dame, at the bed for foundlings, because they could not take care of him."

Esmeralda fired back, "You did not tell the whole truth either. And until Quasimodo's mother actually left him at Notre Dame, no one would know for sure whether she would have! A mother loves her child. She proved that. When she realized her child was in danger, she did what a mother would, she protected him and gave up her life for him."

Frollo was getting agitated, "I have nothing to hide. I withheld particular information, I do not deny that. It was to protect the boy. I was justified in doing so."

"Don't sound so noble. You manipulated him. You made him think that he owed his life to you. When it is you who owes him his mother!"

"I raised him like a son!"

"You did not raise him like a son," Esmeralda reprimanded. "You may have clothed him, fed him, taught him, but you did not raise him like a son. You keep him here all his life and call him a monster. And he calls you master, not father. Do you even care for him?"

There was another pause, and then, "I don't know."

But Esmeralda was too angry to appreciate the astonishingly honest answer.

"You disgust me," she said, and was about to leave, when Frollo asked in a dangerously low voice.

"Why do you care?"

Esmeralda turned back. Incredulous at his question, she did not pick up the warning signs.

"Why? He is my friend."

"No." Frollo's look was ghastly. "Why do you care so much about them? Why do you care about everyone? Everyone but me."

Esmeralda was dumbfounded and still did not recognize the precarious situation she was in when she asked, "Why should I care about you?"

"Why? You dare ask _why_?"

The last word exploded like a thunderclap and Esmeralda stepped back involuntarily. Her eyes widened as Frollo stood up and marched towards her. He was shouting now.

"You! You burst into my life! You twirled your body in front of me and drove me insane! You imprisoned me and refused to set me free!"

Frollo backed Esmeralda into a wall and she felt trapped by his looming presence.

"Before I met you, I was steadfast in my conviction, my ability, my belief. God had set out a path for me and I followed it strictly. I held my role sacred. I kept the peace of this city. I was proud of my life, of all I had done!"

"And then you showed up. You danced your diabolical dance at the Festival of Fools and everything has been topsy-turvy for me since! In vain, in vain I have tried to rid myself of you. You snake your way around my heart and squeeze it so hard that I bleed and cannot breathe!"

As Frollo ranted about his tortured thoughts and feelings about her, Esmeralda looked on in disbelief.

"Do you know what it is like?" Frollo cried impassionedly, "To be consumed by jealousy that one has never known before! To be jealous of Quasimodo and Phoebus, who laugh with you everyday. To be jealous of the servant you smile at, the woman you give your cloak to, the old man you support, the children you tuck to sleep and kiss every night, that infernal goat which you embrace! To be envious of everything! Of the floors you step on, the walls you lay your hand on, of the incense which caresses your face!"

Esmeralda struggled to understand, "Are you… I... Are you saying that you…?"

"I don't love you!" Frollo yelled in dread. However, his denial of something which she had not articulated, had not dared say out loud, reinforced a thought which Esmeralda had not thought possible. She was speechless.

Without knowing what he did, Frollo closed the gap between them and pulled her forcibly to him. His grip on her arms was hard and Esmeralda felt her heart race.

"It m… It must be a spell!" Frollo fumbled. "Are you a demon? An angel? A fallen angel, it is all one and the same! Are you sent here to turn me away from my God, and ruin me and avenge your people? You do not care if I am indeed broken, do you? Cruel, thoughtless, heartless girl. I blame you for making me feel. I blame you for making me wake. I blame you for making me realize I am only a man."

As Frollo wound down, the room was filled only with the sound of his heavy breathing. They stared into each other's eyes and Esmeralda saw the same fire in his eyes as she did the first time they met. This time, she could also see the anguish and yearning which were so acute they pierced her.

Then, Esmeralda did something she did not expect. She blushed.

That seemed to trigger something in Frollo, for he moved to kiss her. Or, more accurately, crush his lips on hers.

The kiss was clumsy, quite unlike Frollo. His heat seared her skin, and Esmeralda let him have his way at first because she was too flabbergasted and found herself incapable of movement. He opened his mouth, and his tongue drove in to find hers. Not understanding why, she found herself leaning forward and kissing him back. But when Esmeralda felt his hands start to wander about her body, she jerked her head back and broke the kiss.

For Frollo, the effect of the kiss was devastating. The plaintive need he had for her was finally given some relief, and the joy just by kissing Esmeralda diffused over his soul. He kissed her ardently, desperately. His arms came around Esmeralda's body and he pressed her body closer to his. So nubile, so pliant. He became bolder, and his hands stroked her back, and moved around her tiny waist and up the curve of her…

When Esmeralda moved her head back, Frollo was left gasping for more. He strove to kiss her again, but Esmeralda pushed him away with all her strength. Cold air hit Frollo's chest and the joy ended. Without waiting to catch her breath, Esmeralda ran away and Frollo felt his soul ripped apart.

-0-

**A/N: **It is supercalifragilisticexpialidocious to receive reviews and follows! Haha, I just watched the trailer for Saving Mr. Banks.

This story is headed towards a major turning point, I hope that it will be agreeable.


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